The Island's Whispers
by McEvoyer
Summary: Post 3x02. Emma's an orphan and Snow wants to fix it, but their lack of communication is proving the task difficult. With the gang split up and the mother and daughter duo left by themselves for a time, they are forced to tackle the issue head-on with the help of the 'island's whispers'. But will their time together strengthen their relationship or break it once and for all?
1. Chapter 1

**Hey there! How have you all been? :) I know it's been a long time since I've written anything - and I do plan to get back to my other story soon - but I've had this idea knocking about my head since the second episode of this season and I just had to post it. I've written a little bit every other day and finally got enough to post a chapter! Haha so it's set after 3x02 and is mostly AU because I'm not following anything that happened after that episode (at least for now) and will be more than 1 chapter...it'll probably 3 chapters. **

**Anywho, I hope you guys like what you read!**

**Alas, I do not own OUAT.**

* * *

"As much as I hate the idea of this plan," David uttered, clearly stricken, "Hook's right." Though it a mere two words, the admission looked to cause him actual pain, but the pirate seemed quite pleased with the sentiment.

The man raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming on his face. "I sense the beginnings of a beautiful kinship, Prince." He had taken to calling him 'Prince' now, confessing earlier in their mission that he had never crossed paths with a male heir to a throne before. Apparently, princesses and queens were more of his…acquaintances.

Emma's father rolled his eyes, looking more tired than he had earlier. "We need to split up. If Pan is planning some kind of attack on us we need to be extra cautious. Splitting up covers more ground and it raises our chances of outsmarting him. I think it's the only viable option we have at this point."

"But what about Regina? And what if we get lost?" the blonde questioned anxiously.

Hook fixated his stare in her direction. "The Queen is doing us a favour. She's taken the initiative and travelled with Tink as a means of retrieving as much information as possible about Pan's compound. They'll be back at the meeting point by sunrise – just like we will be." His eyes were leering as he gazed upon her. The protectiveness bounding off Mary Margaret was palpable and Emma shifted slightly towards her in the hope it would sate her need to be in mama-bear mode. "And don't worry, Swan," he continued. "You won't get lost. You'll have the map but more importantly, you'll have your instincts. Have a little faith." _That _came with a wink. He just couldn't help himself could he?

Of course the idea made sense: split up, throw Pan off the scent, find a way in to get Henry. But a part of Emma feared for their safety without her father around; he'd been like a rock for them when things got a little out-of-hand and wandering the dense and terrifying forest without him was not one bit appealing. And another part of her worried over being alone with her mother after their…whatever that was the other day. Her confession.

An orphan. It's funny how Emma never allowed her mind to travel to that place where she would acknowledge the harsh truth of her upbringing. She preferred words like 'survivor' and 'fighter'. Strong descriptions. 'Orphan' made her feel weak; like a child all over again. Yet, admitting it was needed. It was who she really was no matter how doggedly she tried to ignore it. She grew up alone and stayed that way.

She was an orphan.

But to see the sheer heartache etched into her mother's face as she proclaimed the truth? That was the worst. And the fact that neither of them had brought it up since only added to her concern over what would take place were they to be alone for a number of hours.

She wasn't sure if she was able to open herself to that kind of vulnerability again.

Mary Margaret rushed over to David and flung her arms around his neck, pulling him to her for dear life. He, in turn, held onto her as tight as humanly possible and buried his face in her hair. It was such an intimate moment and, not for the first time, Emma could sense the love they had for one another. In the strangest sense, it was as if mere contact produced this _warmth _that shuddered out all around them. Their voices were too low for her to hear but she didn't need to hear them to know what they were saying: Mary Margaret was just shy of proclaiming some kind of intense affection toward him every time she went to the restroom. Yet again, the blonde found herself almost _jealous _of what they had. That was love. That was happiness. That was what she always wanted - secretly, of course, because she was Emma Swan and had a reputation to play to and God forbid she'd ever reveal anything real about herself.

She could nearly feel the new layer of brick being mounted atop her already high walls.

Hook, visibly uncomfortable at the display of affection, sauntered over to Emma, brandishing his title piece. She crossed her arms defensively. Natural reaction, she guessed. "Just be careful, Swan," he warned sincerely. Tucking a lock of blonde behind her ear, she turned her shoulders toward him ever so slightly to signal that she was paying attention. He continued, "I am aware of your mother's legacy and it's all rather impressive if you ask me, but Neverland is not the Enchanted Forest. Things are different here – much different. A princess bandit is no match for a group of boys who have spent their time fending for themselves and making this island their territory. They're not to be messed with."

"Thanks for the insight," she muttered.

Surprising her, his hand snatched at her elbow. "I'm just telling you to be cautious. Neverland is a place where imagination runs free. It has the power to conjure up your wildest dreams and turn them into something you think real."

"So you've said before." She wrangled her arm free from his iron grip.

"_Listen_," he sneered, unimpressed, "if it can do that to your wildest dreams, it can also do it to your worst nightmares. This place – it works on a different wavelength than everywhere else and if Pan is hoping to ensnare us, I suggest you keep your wits about you and not let your mind to succumb to the island's whispers."

Emma smirked, hoping the action would cover up her doubt just enough for him not to notice. "Gotcha. Don't listen to the island's whispers."

"I mean it, Swan. You've been so…" he trailed off, clucking his tongue, "…vulnerable lately, I wouldn't want you to wander off and get yourself into some kind of trouble. It'd be a hell of an effort to rescue both you and your son."

"Has anyone ever told you what a sweet guy you are?" she deadpanned, adjusting Neal's sword across her torso.

"Only all the time, love," he said with a wink.

A roll of the eyes was literally the only response she could have to that.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of her parents breaking apart, a determined look written on both their faces. She hoped her face conveyed the same amount of urgency as theirs did and with a shake of her head and arms, she attempted to rid herself of all the bad thoughts that ravaged her mind and steeled herself for what lay ahead. But the sight of her father approaching melted that in an instant. Being around him, particularly after their moment when she had broken the news to them that Neal had…had gone, automatically transported her back to her eight-year-old self. In a weird way, she always imagined herself as a daddy's little girl.

Maybe there was some truth to that.

"You all set?" he asked, positioning his stance in front of her.

She nodded. "I think so," she breathed.

His smile was slight but his eyes gleamed with tremendous tenderness. "It's okay to be scared; you don't have to put up a brave front for anyone. This place is dangerous but you'll find your way – you both will. I know that."

Emma shifted from one foot to the other, not quite sure how to act. "Yeah you're right. Besides," she said, releasing a shaky breath, "you'll always find us, right?"

Though physically around the same age, David gazed at her with eyes that appeared far older than his youthful frame and somehow, the man looked like someone who had traipsed through the harshest of times and made it out the other side.

Then again, _he had_.

He was her father and now, lost in his ocean blue eyes, she had never felt the connection more. "Always," he whispered before cupping the back of her head with his hand and leaning in to kiss her forehead. It was a sweet, slow action and Emma allowed herself to feel like the child she once was, but this time, resting in her father's embrace.

"I love you, Emma," he said, stepping back.

It was amazing how strongly three simple words could make you feel. The blonde wasn't sure how long she had wanted – needed – to hear those words but she knew that as soon as the words floated through the air she felt…different. Altered somehow. For the better.

And yet she couldn't summon enough…whatever she required to say the words back. Instead, all she did was smile and drop her eyes to the ground. "I know," she replied meekly.

He didn't seem to mind though, smiling awkwardly back at her and as Mary Margaret saddled up beside her, the two men waved their goodbyes, their parting glances filled with assurance and in Hook's case, arrogance.

Typical.

"You ready, Emma?" Her mother looked at her with loving eyes.

"As I'll ever be."

* * *

Emma was quiet.

Too quiet.

And Snow hated it when she was quiet.

Quiet for Emma was never a good sign. It meant she was thinking. And thinking for Emma usually led down some dark and treacherous paths.

And Snow was not just thinking that because she was desperately hoping they would talk about the giant elephant in the room, she genuinely worried about her daughter's state of mind. Not only was Emma trying to figure out herself as a person, as a saviour, as a daughter, but her son had been kidnapped by the most malevolent foe they had ever faced and taken to this island. This island where creeping mist surrounded them at every turn, the leaves were in a constant state of dampness though there had been no rainfall since their arrival, and daylight was an urban myth. Shadows were no longer signs of the sun's presence; they were reminders of the perpetual state of disillusionment they were ensnared in.

Snow's pulsed raced even at the mere thought of her beautiful grandson all alone and devoid of that hope that shone so bright in his eyes every single day.

Because hope was what Henry carried with him everywhere. He was the truest believer in good; an honest, inquisitive boy that saw the best in people and wanted nothing more than to reunite a family. He was special and wonderful and everything Snow could have ever wanted in a grandchild and now Pan had taken him.

Just like that.

She was his grandmother; she was supposed to look out for him, protect him, keep him safe. She vowed to be the maternal figure to him that she couldn't be with Emma and yet she had already failed in her role.

What kind of mother was she? What kind of person was she? She couldn't protect her family, and every time she made a decision in favour of her family, someone still suffered from the repercussions.

Emma was an orphan. _That _knowledge, that fact, was the result of a choice she had made. And just like Henry, she too had been snatched from Snow's gripe in the blink of an eye. Sure the brunette made the conscious decision to send Emma away, and with extremely good reason, but the woman – her baby, her little girl – had entered a new and frightening world with nothing but her baby blanket and a shrill cry from her tiny lungs.

She closed her eyes as she envisioned her baby, crying out for her to be soothed, in the cold, wet forest of the land they knew as Storybrooke. A chill ran down her spine and the guilt wrenched her stomach like a knife stabbing and twisting in her flesh. Wondering if the guilt and pain would ever subside was futile; Snow _knew _she'd never get over it. Never get over the piercing sobs that erupted from her core the second she saw her husband and her baby dart out of her life. Never get over the emptiness that took a hold on her, as if someone had taken a vacuum and sucked all of the life out of her.

Pushing some large leaves out of her way and holding them back so that her daughter could pass by easily, her eyes traced the lines on the woman's face, the contours of her frame, the strands of her golden hair, but she averted her gaze just as soon as the blonde motioned in her direction. It was a habit, she guessed. Emma was, and she almost hated to say it, magical. She was a mystery to be uncovered, a puzzle to solve, a daughter to love and it was nearly impossible not to look at her.

She hated not talking.

"Are you okay?" she probed gently, keeping a safe distance behind her, the damp soil under her feet squelching with each step.

Neverland was cold; not freezing, but cool enough to raise the hairs on her exposed skin. She pulled her arms in tight to her body as the shuffled through, her bow knocking into her ribs as she manoeuvred around a low-hanging branch.

Emma threw her a look over her shoulder, narrowly avoiding a log in her path. Stumbling slightly, she rectified her balance and cleared her throat. "Yeah. I just wanna make sure we get to the meeting point as soon as possible."

Her voice was…sad. Unsure.

Nervous.

"So do I," she replied breathily, watching her own steps carefully. Who knew what unpleasant things could have been sitting in plain sight. "But," she started, taking a breath, "are you sure there's nothing else? I know you're worried about the plan and about Henry but Emma, your father and Hook will be fine and Regina has Tinkerbell and I'm not going to let anything happen to us, so it'll be okay. I promise." Squeezing her eyes shut as she finished, the brunette internally scolded herself for her word voimit. A tendency to ramble when she was anxious had borne out of twenty-eight years of living as Mary Margaret and sometimes, at the worst possible time, it would raise its ugly head again and remind her that all that time living that life had had an effect on her whether she chose to admit it or not.

For instance, right then.

The blonde's shoulders tensed, her whole stance squared. Neal's sword hung limply by her side, looking as though it wanted a rest. "I know. I know we'll all be okay."

It wasn't much of a reply but it was something at least. "Okay. Good."

The urge to reach out and stop the woman from marching ahead was overwhelming but instead, Snow quickened her steps, dancing lithely around the underbrush, and she sidled up alongside her, ignoring the scrapes some of the leaves were producing on the side of her neck. Emma glanced at her sideways, a tiny smile written on her face.

"What do you want to say, Mary Margaret?" Her tone was bothered but not annoyed.

"What do you mean?"

Emma ran a hand through her locks, the layers flopping back down in one swoop. "You don't think I know when you want to say something?" Her eyes appraised her. "You twist your forehead and your eyes look all…disturbed like they do when you haven't slept enough, and you do this pout thing where your bottom lip kind of juts out…" She tried to replicate the gesture but gave up halfway when she saw the brunette's wide-eyed gape. "I just, I know you okay? Just say what you want to say. I mean, avoiding it is useless, right?"

Snow's breath hitched, her daughter's abrupt outward display taking her by surprise. "I…uh, I…" she floundered for words, stopping in her tracks, forcing the blonde to do the same. "I just wanted to know if you wanted to talk about it?"

"If _I _wanted to? I'd rather not talk about it at all because this place has a habit of making me feel so insignificant and I've had enough of feeling like that my whole life, thank you very much." It came out more sharply than she obviously intended and Snow recoiled, dropping her stare to the soil.

Emma let out an audible sigh but didn't make any more remarks and though it against the tug-o-war of emotions raging on inside of her, Snow found herself clinging to a sliver of petulance, frustrated with the lack of communication between them.

"Is it always going to be like this, Emma?" she said quietly, her fingers mapping the buttons on her shirt. "You opening up just enough to let me in and then slamming the doors shut just as soon as I get too far? You can't expect to go on playing the ignorant role, pretending we never sat on a log and _finally _had a meaningful conversation about our relationship. Because Emma, honey, let's face it; we never seem to be able to talk. There are quiet moments and passing instances but nothing concrete and I'm tired of us bottling everything up and just going about our business like nothing is out of place." Her eyes shone with unshed tears, her eyebrows knitted together, enhancing the scar above her eye. "_Everything is out of place._"

"What more is there to say?" her daughter retorted, crossing her arms across her chest. "I told you I've always felt like an orphan…what else do you want to hear, Mary Margaret? How, with a little bit of hard work and some bonding time, we're gonna be just fine? "

"I want to change it; I don't want nor expect it to be a flick-of-a-switch type of thing," she asserted, palming her hands as if in prayer. "I know you've grown up feeling alone, that you've grown up without hope, that you've been broken – those are things I would give anything to change and Emma, I want to be a mother to you, more than anything else in the world, but in order for that to happen, you need to meet me halfway. If you keep shutting me down just as soon as we make some kind of breakthrough then neither of us will have the relationship that we want with one another."

The blonde's eyes filled, her lip quivering ever so slightly. Attempting to avoid Snow's penetrating gaze, she moved her head to the side, becoming intensely interested in the leaves surrounding them. Snow hid her exasperation considerably well – no foliage was that intriguing, yet it continued to bubble within her like acid. It was as though an invisible force field had made itself a home between mother and daughter, preventing them from laying it all out and _communicating. Why was communication so difficult?! _A lowly whimper escaped her lips but she covered it up quickly with a shuffle ahead, her intent to carry on with the task they were issued with pressing in her mind. Emma's silence was answer enough for now anyway.

From the squelching of the earth, the brunette knew the other woman was close behind her, moving in time to her steps as if they were dancing some kind of classical waltz.

Though the words no more than a mere whisper, they floated through the air and smacked against Snow's eardrum, crumpling up her heart like it was a piece of paper. "_I'm not sure there's anything any of us can do."_

It wasn't supposed to be heard – that much was obvious.

But it was heard.

And wow did it hurt.

She couldn't help but liken her daughter's whole demeanour to the very first day she had met her. Guarded and afraid. Anxious.

And yet, Snow reminded herself, that wasn't the first time she had met her. No, the very first time was when she had held her in her arms and she felt a love so strong that nothing could ever weaken it.

The day she sent Emma away.

"Hey, what's going on?" Emma questioned abruptly, her breaths coming in quick spurts.

The brunette swirled around at the tone, immediately concerned, but what she saw did nothing to quell her worries.

Curling mist closed in on them from every angle, twisting and twirling around them as if it had a life of its own, creeping slowly yet quickly, menacing yet comforting all at the same time. All too soon it was on top of them and the two women crowded together, holding each other in a sideways hug, the panic palpable in the air.

"I don't know but it's going to be okay," Snow assured her child, running a hand through the blonde's hair.

She only wished she could believe herself.

The mist continued its rampage, submerging them in a blanket and Emma squeezed her eyes shut, cowering into her mother. Cool to touch, the mist's tentacles wrapped around them and Snow buried her face in her daughter's hair, breathing in her scent, her embrace tightening.

A crack of thunder filled the air and they screamed at the noise, their hearts beating rapidly.

And then, all of a sudden, it was silent and the mist retreated hastily, transforming the land around them.

They pulled away, Snow still keeping hold of her daughter, and took in the changes.

This wasn't the Neverland they had become accustomed to; this was a place all too familiar to Snow.

"What happened? Where are we?"

Snow's stomach lurched.

**So where are they? And what happened? Haha. I know it's a little rough but I hope you guys liked it! Please review and let me know what you think - I'd love to hear from you! :) **


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey all! Sorry it took so long for me to update but I hope you all had a good holiday! **

**Anywho, I hope you like what you read :)**

**Alas, I do not own OUAT.**

* * *

He stank of rum.

And not the expensive, good stuff. The cheap kind that existed purely to sate the parched needs of pirates and those perfectly content with drowning away their innermost thoughts.

Charming supposed he should have been a bit more grateful to Hook. After all, were it not for his vessel none of them would have been able to travel to Neverland, and yet his pride was far too much to overcome and rather than acknowledge the man's honour, he chose to ignore him.

How admirable of him.

Usually he was the type to say exactly what he felt, but with Hook he couldn't form words. Confliction was instead the only feeling he had toward the man and he was certain that wouldn't go away no matter the outcome of the expedition.

The way he looked at Emma…

He hated it.

It wasn't the cute way in which he had seen Henry look at a sweet little blonde girl back in Storybrooke, it was dark and lustful and everything that a father shouldn't see when looking into the eyes of a possible suitor for their daughter.

Yep, he hated it.

The crunching of leaves behind him alerted him to the fact that the pirate had closed their gap considerably (David had taken the liberty to lead and gather a decent amount of distance between them), but he kept on charging forward, feigning ignorance.

"For someone who takes pleasure in barking orders and watching those around him adhere to his authority, you're not much of a talker," Hook remarked, a smile evident in his voice.

The man huffed, closing his eyes momentarily. "I'm focused on the mission, just like you should be."

"From my experience, expeditions are far more interesting when a conversation is shared. Silence gets a bit tiresome after a while." The squeaking of leather intensified.

Charming marched ahead, refusing to let the man wear him down. All he could think about was Snow and Emma, his wife and his daughter, alone in the underbrush of Neverland. He didn't want to leave them alone; in fact, the idea almost sickened him. He was the protector, the one who was to guard them with all of his heart-

"If you don't mind me asking Prince, why did you choose to come with me?" the pirate probed as if reading his thoughts. "Don't get me wrong I'm flattered to be in such company, but I thought it unusual that you would leave your wife and daughter to their own devices. I'm well aware that they are strong women who have braved fresh territory before and have proved successful, but Neverland is not the Enchanted Forest. It's dangerous here. The island – it whispers to you, preying on your greatest weaknesses -"

Clucking his tongue, David stopped in his tracks, rested his hands on his hips and faced the man. "Listen to me, _mate, _do you think I honestly wanted to leave my family?" Hook raised a greasy eyebrow. "I recognized the need to split up – Pan is not someone to be taken lightly; but you see, were I to stay with either Snow or Emma, one of them would have had to travel with you," he pointed out, his eyes steely. "And I sure as hell wasn't gonna let that happen."

Hook took a swipe at the large leaves beside them, the noise echoing around them in the eerily quiet area. "You really don't like me, do you?" He grinned. "It's the whole pirate-thing, right? Tends to turn people off. We're deemed unsavoury, untrustworthy and the majority of us live up to that, but let _me _tell _you _your Majesty, that I'm not one of them. I wasn't always this…" he gestured to his attire, "I was a man of honour and my brother and I were highly esteemed by our peers. Though you might not believe it, you can trust me. I want to find Henry, too."

Yes, Hook did get them to Neverland and he knew the terrain well and as a result, was an asset to the group, but the protective father in David was incredibly hard to deny. "Come on Hook we both know the only reason you're here is because of Emma. Don't spout some story about being honourable and doing the right thing because I see the way you look at her and you know what, she's never gonna look at you the same way." The chill in the air ran down his spine and he readjusted his stance, crossing his arms over his chest. He hadn't remembered it ever being that cold before. He hoped it wasn't a sign for things to come. "She's just lost Neal, her son is lost on this forsaken island and Pan is threatening us from all corners; she doesn't have time to be entertaining any kind of thoughts on you. If I were you, Hook, I'd throw away all those thoughts you have about my daughter and put all of your focus on being that noble man you claim you once were."

Hopefully cutting the conversation short, the blonde-haired man regained his stride again, his shoulders moving with rejuvenated purposed, his chest tight. His eyes perused the forest ahead of him, alighting on the tracks they could take and noting how dark the rest of the journey was to be. An uncomfortable pang in his stomach caused him to slow briefly, his thoughts drifting to the women in his life, his heart pounding ever-so-slightly faster.

_Please be okay,_ he prayed. _I will find you._

But it was clear that the pirate wasn't finished yet. "Perhaps, rather than throwing my thoughts away, I should just lock them up and save them for a rainy day."

David rolled his eyes but made no comment, unwilling to entertain the man.

"Because she's not a child, Prince," he continued. He was persistent, he'd give him that. "But I know you know that. You treat her like an adult, something which I admire greatly about you." That caused him to pause mid-step, the genuine tone taking him off-guard. Nevertheless, he did not dare to look at him for he feared the only thing he would find was a smug smile that he would be obliged to wipe off his face permanently. "It must be difficult for you, to treat your daughter that way. I can't imagine the position you and your wife are in. But your choice to approach the relationship in the way you have is a testament to your character I believe."

"If you're trying to getting on my good side in the chance that I might soften my stance on you and Emma then you're wasting your time." Charming turned to face him and was content with the man's blank expression, but he placed his hands on his hips, feeling the need to address the topic the pirate had raised. He sighed. "You can't possibly imagine what my wife and I go through on a daily basis when it comes to this family. Looking at my daughter and seeing, not the baby that I put in a wardrobe to protect, but a fully-grown woman who has her own life and doesn't need her father in a way a child would hurts more than you could ever think. I don't treat her in any special way – I treat her like my daughter. But I want to know Emma as a person, as a friend, too. I know how to be that for her. We don't share the bond that she and her mother share and in a way, that makes it easier for us to forge a relationship. I see the struggle in both their eyes when they can't relate to each other and it breaks my heart to know that they can't be who they want to be with one another." His voice strained, he dropped his head. "Emma is an adult but she's my daughter who I could not love more if I tried. Nothing will ever change that. So don't commend me on my approach to the relationship or whatever the hell you wanna call it; you don't know the first thing about me or my family so don't even try to act all sympathetic 'cause frankly Hook, I don't give a damn."

"That's not what I was trying to do-"

"I don't care," David cut him off, feeling tired. "We need to keep moving."

Looking thoroughly disheartened, the pirate nodded, his shoulders slumped for the very first time since they arrived on the island and though against his better judgement, David felt a tug of guilt. With some effort he lowered his voice. "I…uh, I don't know which way to go." He gestured to the trails ahead in the hope that Hook would catch on. Luckily, the pirate did so immediately, snapping back to reality swiftly, and jogging in front of the man, his smug demeanour restored.

Oddly enough, David preferred that version of the Captain.

"Come on Prince, we don't want to leave your family waiting."

Subconsciously, he put a hand to his sword…just in case.

* * *

"What did you do?!" Emma exclaimed, clutching onto her mother as if her life depended on it, and though Snow tried to remain as calm as humanly possible, she gripped her back just as tightly.

"I didn't do anything! I don't know what happened!" She scrambled for words, yelling despite there being no need to.

The panic written plain as day on her daughter's face made her heart ache and reflexively she reached out to place a gentle on her cheek hoping to at least offer some comfort to her.

Emma was too wrapped in the spectacle of the event to truly grasp their new setting but Snow would know it anywhere – and that was why it made her feel so uneasy.

It wasn't so much the place, but the time. It was a time she wished to never relive.

Unfortunately that was all she had been doing of late.

But before she could announce as much and figure out what the hell they were to do now, the blonde mumbled something incoherent and gazed into her mother's eyes with the strangest look. It was a mixture of pure fear and understanding. Her forehead twisted and her lips downturned, she leaned in closer to the brunette and whispered, "Hook was right."

The brunette eyed her quizzically. "Right about what?"

"The island's whispers."

Snow did a double-take but repeated it back to her nevertheless. "The island's…whispers?"

"Yeah," she confirmed. "Neverland – it can whisper to you and turn you wildest dreams into something real." She gulped, turning incredibly sombre. "Or your worst nightmares."

"Hook said this?"

Emma nodded.

"The island's whispers. That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!" The brunette barked an incredulous scoff, reliving a slight bit of tension that had built up in her chest.

"Oh yeah and how do you explain all this?" She gestured around her and in a moment finally took in her surroundings. Her hand stopping mid-way, she let it drop to her side. "We're…this is…but how…?"

Snow reached over and interwove their fingers, feeling the all-too-familiar feeling in the pit of her stomach. "I know," she breathed. "We're in the nursery."

"It didn't look like this when we were here before…"

She drew in a deep breath as the loud clamour of a door firing open startled them both. It was as if someone had turned up the volume on a television and the scene had come to life.

She saw herself whimpering as Charming carried her heavily pregnant self in his arms and laid her onto the bed. She heard his quick reassurances. She felt the pain as if it were just as fresh as the day it happened.

Emma had gone pale. Ghostly-white. "What is going on?"

With a brave breath Snow answered her daughter. "It's the day of the curse Emma. The day I sent you away." Her hand tightened its hold. "My worst nightmare."

* * *

**So what did you guys think? I'd love to hear your thoughts! Hope you enjoyed :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**So so sorry about the delay of this chapter! I kept reaching a certain point and then I would just get stuck and then I couldn't find the motivation to finish the scene. It's probably obvious as you read where I started to find it difficult but I hope you guys like it anyway! :)**

**Alas, I do not own OUAT.**

* * *

The silence that ensued following her weighty statement indicated to only one of two things: either Emma had been stultified by the admission and couldn't form the strength to construct a sentence, or it was completely lost on her and she was already coming up with a plan to get them back to Neverland. By the look of determination on her face, Snow immediately knew it was the latter. The pinched forehead that mirrored Charming's frequently, the eyes that burst with purpose, the clenched jaw, were all classic signs of Sheriff Swan and if there was one thing Snow had learned about Emma, it was that when she was in that mode, she was dogged in her pursuit of her goal.

It was clear as day that her daughter saw their predicament as a problem that needed to be solved and no sooner than the words "My worst nightmare" had left her lips, Emma was pacing from side to side, her head bobbing in all directions looking for an out.

"Emma, stop," Snow ordered calmly, placing a gentle hand on her forearm.

"How do you suppose we get out of here?" she quizzed, stopping momentarily. "Do you think they can see us?"

The brunette shook her head, gazing back at the scene and feeling as though all of her burdens had positioned themselves atop her shoulders. "I…don't know honey. We're…we're not really here." But it _felt _like they were. God, _it felt so real._

The smell of cinnamon, the intricate designs of the room, the noise of the frantic guards racing along outside of the room yelling, "The curse is coming!" – they were all there, able to be sensed by them. If this was a daydream of some sort, _it was one hell of a vivid one._

"Okay, but what does that even mean?!"

Snow twisted her head to look her fully in the eye. "You said Hook warned you about whispers, about transforming dreams into reality, did he say how? Or how to undo it?"

"No…I don't…I don't think so. He just said to be careful. He thought I was vulnerable and that…" she trailed off, her voice a mere whisper, "_I'd _listen to the whispers. It sounded so stupid that I didn't think it was real."

"And instead of you falling prey to it, it was me," Snow finished, moving her hand down from the woman's forearm to hold hers. Emma was cold to touch and instinctively, Snow rubbed circles on her knuckles as a means of garnering up some heat.

The room _that day _was cold too. She remembered it as such. It was as if the curse had sucked all of the warmth from the land like a giant vacuum leaving a freezing, barren world in its wake.

The Evil Queen? More like the Ice Queen.

Emma moved in closer to her mother. "Okay so you're controlling this…stop it."

"Emma I can't just stop it! I don't know how."

The blonde shook her head, her locks falling around her face. "Think about something else."

"Like what?"

"I don't know," she shrugged, "puppies, rainbows, hot chocolate-"

"Seriously, Emma?" Snow interjected with a roll of the eyes.

"Well," her daughter drawled, her expression unsure, "how do you suggest we get out of this then? I don't wanna be here, Mary Margaret."

"And you think I do?"

Bloodcurdling screams erupted from the other side of the room, yanking them from their moment. Snow watched herself cry out in agony, her dear husband trying desperately to soothe her, pleading with her to hold on until the wardrobe was finished. Every time she cried out, Snow jerked back as if what was happening then was an extension of herself in the present and her poor darling daughter had never looked so spooked.

"Seriously, we need to get out of here," the blonde advised, her voice high-pitched, as she clung to her.

"Maybe we can't. Maybe we have to be here," she whispered in reply, gazing into Emma's eyes.

The woman straightened. "Now's not really the time to be cryptic."

"Pan wants to mess with us – this place wants to mess with us. It wants to get us to a point where we are on the brink of giving up, where we are at our weakest. But that's just it; maybe to beat whatever this is, we have to let it play out. Show him that it doesn't affect us." Her tone was calm and assured, but on the inside, her heart pounded so loud that she was sure it was trying to escape from her body. She couldn't show her fear to Emma though; she had to remain strong and steadfast because that was what her mother did all those years ago when she was on her deathbed – she never let her see the damage. And Snow wanted to set that example for her own daughter.

She had to stay strong no matter how difficult that may be.

* * *

Suddenly, as if it had hit her like a bolt of lightning, Emma pulled her attention to the scene in front of them, watching wide-eyed as her mother sobbed with the news that she had to deliver the baby.

The look of sheer heartbreak on her father's face as he kissed his wife's head and struggled to keep his reassurances in check was truly painful, and the way the tears streamed down her mother's face uncontrollably brought tears to her own eyes.

She really didn't want to be here.

In fact, she'd rather be anywhere else than planted in that room, watching that unfold before her very eyes, knowing the outcome, and knowing how much watching this would kill Mary Margaret.

She was scared.

No, more than scared.

Terrified.

Petrified.

* * *

It was as if her eyes were glued to the passing moments, unwilling to be distracted, unwilling to be torn away. No matter how many times her head screamed at her to blink, to look away, she couldn't find it in her to do so. It was unnerving to be so engrossed in something so painful; it felt wrong. But she couldn't look away. Not now.

She still remembered all the thoughts that swarmed her mind right in those moments. Besides the obvious pain she was dealing with, protecting her child – protecting _Emma_ – was always prominent. She just wanted to hold her, smell her, look into her little eyes and feel her heart burst with an all-consuming love that could break down walls and defy all the odds with its strength.

From the corner of her eye the brunette watched as Emma took a tentative step forward, rapt withal. Her hands shaking, Snow reached out and grabbed a hold of the blonde's, tugging her slightly to her side, not voicing the comfort she so desperately needed, and Emma responded with a watery smile.

They stood like that, hand in hand, hearts beating to the same rhythm, breaths coming in quick spurts, tears threatening to fall, as it all revealed itself before their eyes.

_Her screams were piercing, the agony twisted into her features as she tried so hard to hold on. David's voice was strangled, his expression a mixture of panic and calm as he held his wife close, feeling himself break under each one of her wrangled cries. _

_Finally Gepetto burst through the door, his eyes alight with the news. "It's ready," he announced with a beckoning hand. _

_The utter relief seen in David's face was alarming as he repeated the declaration. A smile timidly forming, he draped one arm around the woman and the other underneath her legs and moved to lift her off the bed, but a warning hand from Doc paused the action. _

"_It's too late," he proclaimed with a shaky voice. "We can't move her." He appeared troubled by the whole thing, a small man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. _

_But before David could launch into protestation, Snow let out another sharp shriek, her body writhing forward and backward, her teeth barred. "I have to push!" she insisted, her eyes squeezed shut. _

"_Yes, push," Doc urged, moving around the bed into position. _

"_It's okay love, I'm right here," David assured, kissing her hand that was sewn to his. "Push."_

_It took several minutes and a number of deafening squeals but eventually a tiny cry was heard and baby Emma was delivered, wriggling around as if in search for something. _

_Her parents. _

_A new life, an innocent babe; through chaos and desolation, hope was born. _

_It was beautiful; symbolic in its own way._

"_Welcome Princess Emma," Doc whispered as he cradled the squirming child, cleaning her up and wrapping her in the baby blanket Granny had knitted especially for new member of the royal family. _

_Snow and Charming, Mother and Father, were overjoyed as the bundle of love was passed over to them, resting comfortably in her mother's arms, like she was always supposed to be there. _

_A perfect fit. _

_And it was as if time stood still. Like there was no curse, no evil, nothing spoiled in the world they lived in. Emma's birth had brought so much more than love into their lives; she had brought hope, and that hope was palpable throughout the whole kingdom for just the briefest of instances. _

_For one swift, fleeting, second everything was forgotten. Everything was okay._

_And then, suddenly, like a dark cloud obscuring the sun, it wasn't._

_Charming, enamoured by the sight of his daughter, of his family, planted a kiss on Snow's forehead, basking in that feeling of being complete but Snow's low, uneven voice pulled him from his reverie, back into the darkness. _

"_The wardrobe," she murmured brokenly, her eyes leaving their child. "It only takes one."_

_Ominous crashes and brash yelling from down the hall caught their attention and they fixed their stare at the door. _

_The oncoming storm was heading right toward them. _

"_Then our plan has failed," Charming breathed, realization dawning. Holding back his tears, his heart aching at the sight of his wife's anguish, he rubbed circles on her back in the hope of comfort. Though, he was far too aware of how futile that was. Everything they loved was about to be ripped away from them, and for the first time, there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. "At least we're together," he supplied, grasping at the only thing keeping him going. _

_Snow fell silent for an instant, her resolve breaking through her pain. When she spoke again her voice was shaky but dripping with tenacity. "No. You have to take her – take the baby to the wardrobe." There was truly no doubt that it was the most difficult, agonizing decision she had ever had to make. Her eyes shone with sorrow as she gazed down at her beautiful daughter. _

"_Are you out of your mind?" the man questioned, looking at her with incredulous eyes. _

"_No," Snow insisted, shaking her head defiantly, "it's the only way. You have to send her through."_

"_No, no, no you don't know what you're saying-"_

"_No I do!" she retorted emotionally. "We have to believe that she'll come back for us." Sniffing, she swallowed hard. "We have to give her her best chance."_

_Tears that had threatened to fall for so long finally made their escape and began to tumble down her cheeks. David, losing hold on his restraint, gave in to his tears too, recognizing that his wife was right. The air was heavy, weighing them down as they bore into one another's eyes. Understanding clicked between them. _

_The man leaned over and kissed his daughter, the cries of battle booming ever closer. _

_Time was running out. _

_Snow, with a most pained smile, knew that this was her last moment with her baby. "Goodbye, Emma," she whispered before touching her lips to Emma's forehead. _

_Knowing that if she held on anymore she wouldn't go through with it, Snow passed Emma to Charming, already breaching the barrier of distress. In an impassioned moment, he kissed her urgently, his own tears soaking her face. _

_With a profound sense of purpose, Charming broke away and raced to the door with his child cradled in his arms. He grabbed his sword from where it sat and gave a loaded parting look to this love of his life before darting out of the room, into the war. _

_And then it happened. _

_Snow collapsed back onto the bed, guttural sobs wracking her body as she cried and ached and yearned for her child. Her whole self shook uncontrollably, each moan laden with a sense of despair. Her world had to be taken away from her. Her happiness evaporated in one minute. _

_Her life empty. _

_The moment Emma left her arms, her heart shattered into a million pieces, broken beyond repair. _

* * *

And then everything became hazy; blurred images and faraway noises filled the space between them as the wind kicked up again, swirling around them violently, causing the two women to lean into one another.

One minute they were in the nursery in the palace, and next they were thrust back into the blackness without even so much as a warning.

The cool air of Neverland pricked her exposed skin and then, as if they had dropped out of a portal, they were back in the same place they had started like nothing had happened. Like it had all been some elaborate dream she had had.

Emma didn't have time to process what she had seen. Hell, she didn't even have time to process her mother's reaction to what they had seen. How could she even describe what had taken place?

She had been subjected to the single most heart-breaking thing she had ever seen and would ever see.

Every sound, every flicker of movement was replayed every time she closed her eyes for more than a second but it didn't make it any easier to understand, or make it easier to connect to. It was a lot to take in, a lot to sift through and ruminate on.

She had watched her mother make that decision to send her away.

She had watched her cry out in sorrow after her child.

She had watched the exact moment her life had changed entirely.

And yet, despite all of the emotion welling up inside if her, she couldn't find it in her to say anything. She couldn't find it in her to pass remark and discuss and allow herself to _feel._

Her parents sent her away – that was the truth she lived by every single day of her life and yes, she understood the reasons and had even found a certain amount of admiration towards them for it, but she didn't want to _see_ it happen. She didn't want to_ live_ it. She felt the heartbreak, she heard the pain, she sensed the pressure but she never wanted to. It was easier for her that way to hate it. It was easier to be removed from it. The removal, the distance, provided the gravitas for her insecurities and her feelings of worthlessness – outlooks she had practically defined her life by. Those states created the identity by which she lived. She was an orphan. A child sent away for a greater purpose. She resented being sent away – always had; and not knowing the specifics of when she was given away meant that she could forever feel that way and fashion a life out of that resentment.

That was how she lived, day in and day out.

But now? Seeing it with her own eyes?

Well that changed _everything_.

How could she be angry at them? How could she accuse them of not loving her? How could she continue being the Emma Swan she had constructed out of what her life was like?

Emma Swan the unloved, tough orphan no longer existed.

Sure, the orphan title would still factor in, but the unloved part? No way.

Her whole basis of her life had been thrown asunder and now instead of being on the road of discovery, she was left flailing around in uncertainty.

Maybe Pan's way of messing with them was working after all.

As if checking to make sure she was alive and not stuck in some weird limbo, the blonde patted down her arms, examining her clothes and her body for any kind of tears or scratches – anything that would suggest that she wasn't in full and proper condition. Thankfully, everything seemed to be in its right place.

One could never be too careful when dealing with the island's whispers.

God that sounded so utterly ridiculous.

Mary Margaret was silent next to her. If it wasn't for the sight tension in the air between them she would have thought she wasn't there at all. Barely passing a comment was not exactly common for her mother and best friend and all it did was put Emma more on edge.

If that was even possible.

She was frightened to look at her, to see whatever was in her eyes, to watch her despair, to feel her love.

_That _she was not ready for.

Because she knew she'd see it as soon as their eyes clapped.

They shared a bond – one of the strongest bonds she'd ever forge – but sometimes that connection was terrifying and would especially be now as she was lost in her own mass of confliction.

_What was she feeling?_

There was just so many diverging things going on inside her head and her heart and she understood that she had to speak, she had to say something, she had to look her mother in the eye but…she couldn't.

She wasn't ready.

As if on cue, Emma felt the lightest of touches on her arm and reflexively, she snapped her head up and was met with the most tender expression she had ever seen. "You okay?" was all the woman had said and she waited, expectantly, for a reply.

Too bad she wasn't going to get the one she wanted.

"We better keep moving."

Emma cursed herself as she strode ahead, wishing for once in her life she wouldn't be so afraid to talk about her feelings.

* * *

**Okay so I got slightly carried away with the ending there; I was trying to tease out Emma's sense of identity and examine it with regards to this new development and I know that in theory it should help her understand better and dislodge any feelings of resentment she had left towards her parents but for some reason, as I was writing, I just felt her character wanted to fight that and go a little deeper. In doing so, I made it far more complicated for myself! Haha. But she has somewhat allowed herself to create an identity out of her resentment – she's tough and guarded and inquisitive and she doesn't trust easily and she doesn't love easily – and I just thought that seeing the moment that her mother made the decision to send her through would make her question herself and her sense of who she is, as well as understanding/forgiving her parents. **

**Anywho that was long-winded! I do hope you enjoyed it regardless and if you could drop a review to let me know what you though it would mean the world to me :)**


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